"Ah... of course..." replied Corbin, looking into the deep pools of Nisa's brown eyes. His resolve - his intention to keep Nisa at arms length, had not even survived his exit from the bedroom. What had he been thinking, so sweep her up like that so soon after deciding that he could not allow himslef to become involved, if only for her sake?

He placed one hand on the cuisse as he watched the lovely woman kneeling at his feet, felt her fingers on his thigh as she sought the laces. His mind was at war with itself, one side falling for the lovely miller, the other side screaming that he could bring her only pain in the long run.

And yet the screaming seemed to be coming from so very far away...

When she had finished lacing, Corbin reached down and took Nisa's hands, pulling her gently to her feet. Standing close, face to face, he found himself wanting to kiss her but instead stood frozen.

Nisa stood toe to toe with the knight for a moment. He seemed to be holding his breath. She too felt like she couldn't move, or didn't want to. Her heart raced as she remembered the tenderness he had shown her and the passion. with her heart still a flutter, Nisa turned away and retrieved the rerebraces and couters.

When she returned to the knight, Sir Corbin seemed a little more relaxed..... at least he wasn't holding his breath any more. The couter's went onto his elbows easily but when it came to the raerebraces the lacing would not go through the holes. Finally Nisa took the knights arm and draped it over her shoulder so he wasn't having to hold his heavily armed arm up in the air. She felt him hold his breath again. After a little fighting with the last two pieces, Nisa let Sir Corbin's arm fall to his side.

"There. Not the fastest I've ever laced a man into armor but it will do." She glanced up at Sir Corbin. "Will you be able to acquire a squire at the tournament?" she asked as she reached over to the saddle and retrieved his helmet. For a moment she pause then added, "Will we be able to afford one Sir Corbin?"

Corbin frowned at the question, but was thankful for the distraction. Nisa's closeness during the fitting of his harnesshad tested his resolve, and it was only the thought that his armoured embrace would hurt her that had prevented him from taking her in his arms.

Damn it, man... cast aside these thoughts... growing closer can only hurt her in the long run...

He took a deep breath. "I know not... we have other expenses first, we must obtain a horse for you, and if we can afford it some form of pavillion tent. Nothing fancy, but it will make it easier to be taken seriously - and I cannot expect you to sleep in the open, under the gaze of as many as there will be at the tourney."

He smiled.

"Are you ready my lady? Then allow me to help you mount. As far as the town, at least, you shall ride."

Nisa paused and took a look around. A feeling of great sadness welled up in the millers heart. She didn't know why but she felt as if she was saying goodbye. As if she would not return. She watched the paddle wheel splashing as the water forced it to turn. The moss on the stones along the creek bank where she sat and ate her morning meal all this past summer. The bridge that would begin their trek curving high above the flowing water. A voice in Nisa's mind told her that she would never be back.

After a moment, Nisa turned to Sir Corbin who waited to lift her onto the back of the horse. "I am ready." she said softly as she stepped in front of him, her back to Grace's side.

Corbin bowed slightly with a soft smile. "Pardon me, my lady." he murmured, placing his strong hands upon her waist. Then, in one smooth motion he lifted her and placed her upon the saddle, sitting sideways.

Nisa shifted slightly, adopting a comfortable side-saddle position even though the saddle was not really built for it.

Then the hedge-knight slung his shield over his back, hung his helm on his belt, and took hold of the rope he had fastened to Grace's Bridle.

He looked up at Nisa, the sun upon her face, looking slightly out of her element, slightly whilstful, but very beautiful. He supressed a sigh.

Nisa held her breath as the knight placed his hands on her waist and lifted her with such ease to the saddle. It wasn't an uncomfortable seat so it only took her a moment to adjust her skirts.

When the knight asked which way, Nisa pointed to the bridge. "That way, Sir. It usually takes me a few hours to walk. We should be there by mid afternoon."

As they started on their way, Nisa held onto the saddle and leaded over a bit to see Sir Corbin better as she spoke. "The village used to have a fair every summer when I first moved here though it died out soon after. Maybe one of the tents is still intact in storage. I could ask around once we get there." Nisa offered with a smile.

"That might work... if not, perhaps there is some cloth to be had and a skilled seamtress..."

Corbin kept one wary hand on his sword hilt as with the other he led Grace. Not that he really needed to, he supposed, since unless commanded otherwise Grace would follow his footsteps loyally.

But he couldn't predict how the battle-trained horse might react to danger with him not mounted, and Nisa would almost certainly be hurt should Grace decide to charge into battle. No, a lead-halter was definitely a better idea.

Fortunately, it proved an un-necessary precaution. The hours passed without incident, and the knight and the lady-miller passed the time in pleasent conversation about the sights of the forest, a foraging deer, the changing of the leaves - finding a shared love of the wilderness that could only deepen their friendship. For all of his skill at arms, Nisa was finding that Corbin's soul was gentle in nature.

The village of Eastbend was busy just as it was every day. Children running here and there. The people going about their work. Hammering could be heard from the back smiths. The smell of fresh baking from the bakers tiny shop.

As they pair approached, many stopped to stare. A group of children playing king of the hill paused and pointed at the knight in his armor. Half the children could pass for siblings. All with the same black hair and blue eyes, an uncommon feature. Nisa looked away. They all had the same features as her late husband. There was little doubt that he had spilled his seed on a regular basses in Eastbend.

Once they reached the town well, Nisa leaned over and said softly, "The bakery is just ahead. I will go there and take care of my business there. There's a livery at the end of the street."

"As you wish, my lady." replied Corbin, with a grin, reaching up and plucking Nisa from the saddle.

Setting her gently upon the ground, he held onto her hips perhaps a little longer than he needed to, letting go with reluctance.

"If you are certain my presence would not be helpful in the bakery, I shall go and see what might be found in the way of suitable mounts." he replied to Nisa's words, and watched her enter the bakery.

Back in "civilisation" he unbuckled his helm and hung it from his belt, and re-hung his shield back on Grace's saddle.

As he led Grace away, he scowled. Every time he was not in Nisa's presence he was quite clear on what he must do - remain friendly but distant, as should love develop between them it could only end in heartbreak.

But in her presence? Every smile, every time she pushed her hair back, every time she said his name he wanted more and more to be with her...

He shook his head to clear it as he arrived at the stable, and tied Grace's halter loosely to the hitching post outside, before stepping in.

It was all Nisa could do not to ask Sir Corbin to come with her. Trips to town were never pleasant experiences and she didn't expect this one to be any different. Still if they split up, they would get more done quickly and be on their way. And Nisa just wanted to be on their way.

The smells from the bakery were welcoming even if Nisa didn't feel she was. Inside the stone building, rows of fresh bread lay out on wood racks. The head from the big clay stove gave the whole building a warmth that sunk into her body. As the miller stepped through the door she was greeted by the bakers daughter. She was a pretty thing, in her early 20's with long blonde hair, big green eyes and a belly swollen with child. "Hello Nisa." Ginger greeted her.

"Hello, is your father about?" Nisa asked politely but to the point. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the child the young woman carried was sired by her late husband.

"Yes.....Father." Ginger shouted.

Instead of the portly baker, his wife emerged from the back room. She wasn't at all pleased to see Nisa. Just like ginger, the bakers wife hand long blonde hair, green eyes and she too was heavy with child. Though she claimed it was her husbands, most believed that she too carried the late millers child. "What do you want?" the woman barked.

"I'm here to speak with Timbom. It's about the flour." Nisa said calmly, holding her ground. She refused to cower and be persecuted for the sins of her late husband.

The bakers wife glared for a moment then screamed, "Timbom, bet your lazy carcass out here. You have a customer and Ginger and I are going to well for water."

Ginger tried to say goodbye to Nisa but her mother ushered her out before she had a chance.

Stepping from the shadows of one of the stalls came a young woman in boyish clothes that did nothing to conceal the fact that she was, in fact, a woman. Her brown hair was tied back tightly, and her face glowed with effort - clearly she had been working hard before being interrupted. She gave Corbin a very confident appraising stare, not at all intimidated by the unusual sight of a steel-clad knight entering her place of work.

"Ah, Miss." responded Corbin, made slightly hesitant by her bold gaze. "I am seeking to buy a horse, gentle in nature, suitable for a lady to make a long journey. Along with tack and saddle, of course. Can you help, or do I need to speak to the owner of this stable?"

The girl laughed lightly. "Oh, my father is away at the horse-fair, seeking new stock... " and her voice became lower, slightly sultry. "New breeding stock... but he trusts me completely. I'm sure I can see to your needs."

Corbin frowned. This was not the first time a young woman had flirted with him in such a way, even a hedge-knight carries a certain mystique and he was a tall and handsome man. Normally he would have played along, quite likely even sought a dalliance with the wench, but today the girl's suggestive words made him uncomfortable.

Inwardly sighing, he realised he would have to at least remain polite. He could not afford to offend her, not if he wanted to pay a reasonable price for a horse. He might even need to respond a little to her playfulness.

"Let me see what horses you have." he said, with a friendly grin. "Then I am sure we can come to some arrangement."

There were two suitable horses. One was an elderly chestnut palfrey with white socks, a horse of very good breeding but long past its prime. Presumably the cast-off of some noble lady, it would serve, and would certainly be the cheaper of the two.

The other was a pretty little palomino jennet, that whickered happily when Corbin reached out and rubbed its nose. Whilst not as well bred as the palfrey, it was a good deal younger and was clearly a good-natured creature. it would, he was sure, have a gentle ambling gait that would make a long ride a comfortable one.

The knight weighed his coin purse in his hand. Prudence suggested he buy the palfrey - its age was of no account, they would only need it for this one journey.

But in the end, after 5 minutes of flirtatious bargaining, and the substantial lightening of his coin-purse, it was the jennet he was leading as he left the stables. He introduced Grace to her new travelling companion, and the two horses sniffed and snorted at each other briefly. Then, a lead-rope in each hand, he led them back down the road to the bakery.

Nisa only waited for a moment before the baker emerged from the back room. "Well, well. MS. Strongol. What brings you to town. I didn't expect my flour to be done for another week."

"I finished half your order, Mr. Elmord, and it waits for you at the mill..." before Nisa could continue the baker's face turned red with anger and he cut her off.

"Half? I did not ask you to grind half." He barked, waving his hands in the air.

"I have run into issues with the milling stones and will have to go and find someone to repair them." she lied. It was none of the villages business that the stones needed to be replaced. If they knew than likely they would start taking their grain to Westend, even though it was a fell two days ride.

"Issues? You're damn right you have issues. I expected that flour this coming week and I'll be damned if I'm not getting it." the baker stepped closer, bringing the argument to her.

Nisa put up her hands in defense to his words, "Please, baker Elmord. Half the order is filled and I hope to have the mill back up and running before long."

Before Nisa knew what had happened, the large man grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her back against the wall. "You're bloody husband spills his seed in both my wife and daughter and now you come in here and tell me this?" he said through clenched teeth into her ear. the impact with the wall had knocked the wind from Nisa's lungs and she struggled to catch her breath, hindered as well by the weight of the bakers body leaning hard against her.

Still gripping her wrists, he pulled her hands above her head with great strength. Though Nisa struggled, he had no troubles holding her there. "Fucking miller took to much from me." she felt his free hand pulling up her skirt. "About time I took something back. I think after all the head aches you two have caused me, a good hard fuck might be a good start." Nisa let out a cry as his hand touched her upper thigh. "Yes, that's it." He said as he reached down to untie his britches. "I want you to fight me hard. Make me take you."

Nisa didn't know what to do. She struggled only to hear him laugh. the bakers hand began to pull up her skirt again and she fought harder, crying "No!" then she tried to bite him. His response was to punch her in the ribs. "That's it Nisa. Fight harder. Let them all hear how I'm taking what is owed to me."

As he finished tying Grace and the as yet un-named jennet to an iron ring on the wall outside the bakery, Corbin could hear some sort of scuffle taking place inside.

Then he heard Nisa cry out "No", followed by the sound of a punch and a half-cry, half gasp.

He stepped into the bakery, to see a greasy looking, portly, blonde-haired man pinning Nisa to the wall with one flour-covered fore-arm, as he industriously tried to shove his other hand up her skirts.

"Come to see the bitch paid back in kind for what her husband did?" laughed the baker, hearing somebody enter and assuming that it was one of the townsfolk.

Rage filled Corbin. Not the same red-hot rage as he had felt when slaying the hobgoblins, but a colder, icy rage. Calm, controlled rage, in which he could easily kill a man, if necessary, but which allowed for alternatives.

The baker's "fun" was brought short by the hiss of steel as Corbin pulled his sword a mere 6 inches from his scabbard, knowing that the sound would serve as fair warning.

His voice cold, icy as the mountain springs that fed the mill stream he uttered a simple threat.

"A baker with no hands becomes a beggar. If you ever want to knead another loaf, you'll unhand the lady."

As the baker turned toward the interloper, Corbin could read him like a book. Angry at being interupted, he was surely about to make some comment about how "lady" was not the correct term for his victim.

The portly baker got as far as "She's no..." before the point of Corbin's sword was at his throat - neither he nor Nisa had even seen the knight move.

"Choose your next words very carefully, baker-man." Corbin hissed, his voice making Nisa shiver. "Very carefully indeed. I have no qualms cutting the throat of a fat rapist and watching his life-blood spill over the floor."

Nisa watched as all the blood drained from the bakers face and she smell the uran as it ran down his leg and pooled on the floor. A small voice in her mind told her to let the knight kill the baker. He was a taking he frustrations about her late husband's activities out on her. Something she had nothing to do with. She could have left him high and dry, with no flour. But a stronger force pulled at her heart strings. Another voice, calm and familiar said, "Nisa, this man was gravely wronged. He does things out of frustration and doesn't deserve this fate."

With a soft sigh and a shaking hand, Nisa reached out and placed her hand on Sir Corbin's gantlet. "Please, Sir. He knows what he did was wrong, and by no means do I forgive him but his crime was an attempt, thanks to you, and he does not deserve such a fate." The knight remained frozen as the baker began to wimper. "Please, Sir. He swears we will never lay a hand on me again." This made the baker wimper even more as he tried to agree without moving.

The sword didn't waver a hairsbreadth. The strength of arm required to hold the long, heavy blade vertical for so long without so much as a tremor was considerable, but Corbins muscles were fueled by his contempt for the man who now stood pale and whimpering before him.

"My lady is merciful." he murmured, sibilently. "For what he tried to do to you I should cut him... if not here, then here..."

The point of Corbin's sword dropped down to between the trembling baker's legs.

"But if he is truly sorry - if he swears in the sight of the gods that he will never try to force himself upon any other woman - or child - again... then I will let him go unbled..."

In a flash of steel the sword vanished into its sheath, but the knight kept one hand on the grip in such a way as to suggest that just because the blade was hidden did not mean it should be forgotten.

"And remember, Baker-man." continued the night, his voice quiet but firm.

"The gods might sometimes be forgiving when it comes to punishing an oathbreaker. But I am not..."

As the knight withdrew his blade, the Baker took a set back and put up his hands in defense. "I swear..... I.... I won't touch her again. No one again...... please what can I do......I ...." he stammered.

Nisa stood as close to the knight as she dared without actually touching him. His presents brought her comfort. As the Baker continued her blubbering, an idea came to mind. When Lunitian gives you a gift, you must use it. "You're tent." The baker looked confused so she continued. "The good knight requires then rental of a tent much like the one you used to use for selling your wares at the spring festival."

Suddenly the baker saw a way to lessen the wrath of the knight. "Yes, It's in the wood shed...... I'll get it for you...... I'll even toss in my mule to carry it...... for 10.....5..... for free! All for free. Nisa you can have it!"

Sir Corbin insisted on paying the baker for the tent and mule, and with in the half hour, the pair road out of Eastbend, mule in tow. Once they were past the outer wall, Nisa looked up at the knight beside her. "Thank you Sir Corbin."

Corbin was deliberately keeping Grace on a tight reign, to match the comfortable ambling gait of Nisa's pretty palamino jennet. But now he gave his mount her head for a moment, drawing in front so that Nisa could not see his face.

"Any man would have stepped in..." responded Corbin, not turning but instead adressing the empty road ahead. "But I am not proud of how I handled it. I was filled with rage, rage that he would dare to touch you, and if you had not have pleaded for mercy in his name I might have killed him..."

"It would have been murder, and only your gentle heart prevented it from being so. To draw steel on a tradesman, threaten to take his life... it was not an act worthy of a knight..."

Nisa listened to Sir Corbin confess his shame for his actions. He felt guilt for his lack of control. the miller held her tongue till he declared himself unworthy of his title. With that, Nisa slapped her horses reins against her horses neck, sending the animal trotting past Grace. She pulled hard to the left as soon as she over took the war horse and blocked the knights path. The jennet danced back and forth but Nisa kept control of the horse even though it showed so fear of blacking the war horse's way.

Nisa glared at the knight, "You saved me from a groosm death and asked for no pay nor favor of the flesh. You offer to replace my mill stones with your winnings from a tournament that could cost your your armor or even your life. You put a man, who is known to be a murderer and a thug in his place then refuse to take the man's tent, insisting that you pay for it." She pointed a finger at Sir Cobrin, and continued, her rage building at his self belittlement. "Before I met you, Sir Corbin, the only knights I have met would have taken what they felt I owed them. Would never even thought of what state I was left in once through with me. they would have let the baker have his fun and killed him without a second thought." Again the jennet danced and Nisa pulled the reins to the side hard, taking control of the animal quickly despite the war horse.

"You may be nothing more than a hedge knight but you hold yourself to unrealistic standards. And I would not have wasted my gifts of a common hedge knight. You put most Lords to shame." Again the small horse danced, trying to get out of the way of Grace and again Nisa took control, forcing the jennet to remain in place.

Stunned by Nisa’s outburst, Corbin kicked his heel’s gently into Grace’s side, causign her to back up slightly and letting the jennet calm down.

She is even more beautiful when she is angry... suggested a stray thought in a voice Corbin didn’t recognise as his own. His emotions surged, confusion over the source of her anger mixed with gratification at her words on his behalf, mixed with love, lust, shame at feeling the lust, and overlaid with admiration at the way Nisa handled her reluctant mount.

Only the last seemed to be a safe topic for conversation. “You are quite the horsewoman Nisa... Miller, slayer of monsters, healer, angel of mercy and now chevalier... I begin to believe there is no limit to your talents.” He smiled, but his voice held sincerity, not mockery.

As both horses settled down, sniffing and snorting at east others muzzles, Corbin met the challenge of meeting Nisa’s fiery eyes.

“But I fear you put me on a pedestal... you came close to seeing another side of me today, and it was your mercy, not mine that spared the baker... Everything else I have done any true knight would have done, and it perhaps only misfortune that you have only met those who bear the weight of the title proudly whilst ignoring the burden of duty.”

He looked down at the jennet, and its determination, now, not to give ground to the larger warhorse. He smiled.

“Your horse is as bold of spirit and as filled with life as yourself, my lady... you should give her an honourable name.”

Nisa was still to angry with the knight to reply. She was married to a man who was nothing more than a miller and thought he was not only the gods gift to woman but strutted about like he was king. Now here sat a knight who had a noble heart and was truly honor bound and felt he wasn't worthy of a simple thank you.

Finally she yanked the jennet's reins hard to the side and headed down the road ahead of the knight. After a moment of silent riding and thought, Nisa glanced back. The anger had finally started to drain away. "Dancer." the miller paused for a moment as she tried to come up with a way to explain the reason for the name without giving to much away. "When I was young..... my father used to shoe a horse named Dancer and she had the same spark as this one." She reached a gentle hand down and rubbed the jennet's neck.

The hedge-night smiled fondly at memories of courtly dancing, from the days before his half-brother was born and Corbin's place as heir was taken away from him. He nudged Grace into catching up with Nisa and her newly named mount, much to the disgruntlement of the pack-mule that, tied by a short rope to Grace's saddle, was forced into a rapid trot in order to keep up .

Slipping the reins around his saddle horn, Corbin reached his hand over to Nisa, hoping that she would take it.

Nisa gave a heavy sigh as Sir Corbin changed the subject. She was still angry with him for his self belittlement. She wanted to yell at him more. She wanted him to have enough self pride to yell back but that didn't seem to be the sort of man he was. Letting it drop as well, Nisa reached out and gave his gloved hand a squeeze then pulled her back to the reins. "Yes, I used to, though I haven't in many years." She thoughts slipped back to a time longs since past. You will dance again. a soft voice whispered in the back of her mind.

"It is the same for me..." replied Corbin, whistfully. "As a youth I was forced to learn courtly dances when I would rather have been riding, our sword training. But now I look back, it is one of the things I miss from that time..."

He sighed. The rode on in silence for a few long moments, no sound but the clopping of hooves and the gentle rustle of wind in trees.

"If there are players at the tourney, perhaps..." he let the potential question trail off, suddenly falling silent.

Stop it, you damned fool. This lady does not need a hedge-knight's love, never knowing where he is, waiting at home fearing to hear he has been killed in some folly... You must hold her distant...

His dutiful mind continued to nag at him, and he knew that the right thing to do was to treat Nisa politely but remain at arms length.

Nisa smiled and turned her eyes back to the road. "Perhaps." she agreed and left it at that. as they road in silence, Nisa thought about how it felt when her had swung her around back at the mill. How it would feel to be held in his arms as they danced, her hand in his.

The road on for many hours till the sun began to dip towards the horizon. It would be night soon and there was no sign of a village or town near by. The grass from the rolling hills dance in the breeze like waves on a great green sea. Bluffs of trees dotted the landscape both on hill top and dip.

Nisa as tired. She was used to hard work but riding drained her energy. "Sir Corbin?" She said, breaking the comfortable silents. "Where will we make camp?"

Travelling with Nisa was a true pleasure... so many travelling companions would be compelled to fill the silence with chatter, but Corbin loved to simply listen to the natural sounds of travel - the creak of saddle leather, the jingle of the metalwork on the harness, the clopping of heavy hooves on the ground.

The wind in the trees, the sounds of birds of all types calling.

The long winding road was hypnotic. Corbin trusted Grace to follow the marked trail well enough, and so he retreated inside himself, swimming in a sea of memory...

***

The young man, really still a boy, chaffed at the finery he was being forced to wear. He'd rather be out practicing swordsmanship with Master Runcible or Redhanks... or riding with his grandfather...

"Stop fidgeting lad!" said his father, sternly. "I swear, Corbin, if you rip that doublet I'll take its cost out of your hide!"

The young Corbin obediently put his hands by his sides, and held still - but still grinned. He was obeying to please his father, not out of fear of a beating that would never come.

He looked around the Solar, wondering when the guests would arrive, and what was so special about them. Father did not usually demand that he meet visitors to the house, in fact he usually was quite relieved when the young boy chose to spend time at the stables instead, or in the armoury. but today he had been very insistent on Corbin's presence, and the fledgling warrior could not help but wonder why.

At last, the steward entered. "Sire" he began, with a bow. "May I present Lord Kiernan of Errigal and his daughter, Tyran."

The lord that entered was young, perhaps no more than twenty five, if that. Dressed in dark blues and yellows, he was accompanied by a tottering girl with dark hair - black, but shining like a raven's wing - she must not be a day over 4 summers old. Corbin immediately took a dislike to the man, though he could not say why.

"Lord Jeager..." said the young lord, striding forwards to shake hands with Corbin's father. "And this must be Corbin! I have something for you, my boy!"

A servant entered, carrying a long, oil-cloth wrapped package, almost as tall as the boy himself. The servant handed the burden to Corbin, who was surprised at the weight.

"Well, open it, open it!" crowed Lord Kiernan. Curious, Corbin unpicked the knotted string that held the oil-cloth, and the wrapping fell away revealing a magnificent sword, fully forty inches long, a long grip made for either one or two hands, wrapped with supply leather. The scabbard was black leather, tooled in an intricate pattern of knotwork chased with silver.

"It's beautiful!" murmured the boy, but he saw his father stiffen. It would be years later before Corbin recognised the insult disguised as a worthy gift, a gift so worthy that Lord Jaeger must bite his tongue rather than show his anger that his bastard son had been deliberately been given a bastard sword.

"And this is my other gift to you Corbin." grinned the young lord, shoving his daughter forwards. Her blue eyes met Corbin's orbs of green, and she curtsied, even though she scowled at the same time.

Turning to his father, the boy confessed his confusion. "Father, I don't understand."

"Corbin, this is Tyran Kiernan, your betrothed. When she comes of age, you will marry..."

***

"Sir Corbin?"

Corbin looked around, his turbulent memories falling away as Nisa's voice brought him back to the present. He found that his hand had moved of its own volition onto the hilt of his bastard-blade, the same one he had been given all those years ago. Upon learning of the insult behind the gift, he had embraced, rather that rejected it, dedicating himself to becoming a master of the heavy blade to spite the man that had given it to him...

"When will we make camp?"

The knight shook his head to clear it... he had fallen from one recollection straight into another, when there were matters of the present that needed addressing. He turned to his lovely, if wilting, travelling companion.

"My apologies, my lady. Nisa, I mean. I had forgotten you are not used to the saddle. I suggest we make camp in that small copse, ahead. It likely conceals a pond where the animals can drink, and the trees will provide us with some shelter. If we ride briskly for this last half mile we should arrive in daylight."